


To Feel

by Sylaise (Auds_Dods)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, PWP, Pure Smut, Relationship(s), Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, unabashed humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auds_Dods/pseuds/Sylaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened the night Fenris and Hawke spent together? Inquiring minds wanted to know. Pure, unabashed smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Feel

“You don’t need to go,” Hawke said softly, more softly than she had meant to. To prove her point, she reached out and slid her hand around Fenris’ arm, stopping his retreat. His flesh was so firm, his arm muscular. She squeezed it, unable not to, feeling the tattoos raised beneath his skin. They flared with bright blue light, reacting to her magic, and he spun violently, his face contorted with rage. Before she truly realized what was happening, he slammed her against the wall, pinning her there, helpless beneath his lyrium-induced strength. His breathing was heavy, broken, as if he was lost in some dark memory. He stared at her with those rage-filled green eyes, and just as suddenly, he seemed to understand he was not facing Danarius, but was, in fact, pushing Hawke up against a wall in her manor, his hands digging into her arms in a way that had to be painful. His expression cleared, was confused for just a moment, then surprised as Hawke’s look of concern melted into a wicked grin.

Fenris let go of her, took half a step back, and then another as Hawke crowded his space, not allowing him a retreat. He knew what was happening the second before she launched her arms around him. He could have turned; he could have fled or told her to back down. There were many things Fenris could have done in that instant.

But he didn’t.

Hawke’s arms slid around him and he allowed her close, allowed her to push into his space. He didn’t pull away. Hawke took that as a good sign. She pressed herself against his body, her arms linking tightly around his waist as she went in for the kiss. His mouth anticipated hers, was ready when she pressed her lips against his. Every inch of Fenris was hard, unbending, unrelenting…except his mouth. His lips were firm, but so incredibly soft. The unexpectedness of his response made her gasp. He took advantage of the moment and slid his tongue over her lower lip. She didn’t let him press his advantage. Her arms went from around his waist to gripping his shoulders. She spun him around and this time _she_ slammed _him_ against the wall.

She pinned him there, as helpless as she had been beneath his rage. She ran her fingers over the exposed skin of his arms before planting her palms on either side of him, effectively caging him in. She had slammed him backwards with such force that the wind had been knocked out of him. His mouth opened in a small gasp, and she was able to take advantage. Her hips settled against his, his armor digging into the cotton of her shorts, but she didn’t care. The slight edge of pain added to the pleasure of sliding her tongue into his mouth and feeling the resulting jolt as Fenris’ hands gripped her hips. His palms slid across her waist, one going to grip her bottom tightly, pressing her closer.

She stood on tiptoe to get a better angle, forcing his head back and his mouth open wider as she ran her tongue along his. The tip of her tongue danced with his, making small circles and causing him to groan at the light touch. She could tell, pressed so close to his hips, that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. His hand squeezed her flesh again, trying to press her even closer. She grinned into the wetness of his mouth, and pushed her knee against his thigh, sliding it up his leg to gently rub against the growing hardness of his crotch. He cursed against her lips, grabbing her hips and grinding against her thigh. She wanted to feel him, feel his burning heat against the palm of her hand. She relinquished the cage her arms had made in favor of working the lacings of his trousers. It took some fumbling, adjusting of his belts and tunic, but she was able to quickly loosen his breeches enough to slide her hand down the flatness of his abs, feel them twitch beneath her palm, and onto the growing stiffness between his legs.

As her fingers closed around his thickness, he cried out against her mouth, breaking the kiss with a string of curses. Her fingers barely closed around him. He was so _thick_. Excitement mingled with adrenaline in Hawke’s blood. She couldn’t help herself. Fenris’ face was buried in her neck, his hips rocking against her thigh rhythmically. He was still cursing, his voice a harsh growl. She laughed softly, and began to pump her hand up and down his length. She couldn’t properly tell, what with his erection being trapped in his pants, but he seemed… _pleasantly_ long. She gave him a good squeeze. His knees buckled, but he caught himself, and suddenly Hawke was no longer the one pushing _him_ against the wall. He spun her around, pulled her hand out of his pants and used his own knee to spread her legs wide. His armored hands gripped the waist of her shorts and the next thing she knew, he had ripped them— _literally_ tore them off of her.

“ _Fenris_ ,” she hissed in a strained whisper, unable to _not_ be excited by his…enthusiasm. “In my room,” she managed to say, watching as he stripped the armor from his fingers piece by piece, still cursing under his breath. His green eyes looked up and locked on her own, and Hawke felt a responding wetness trickle down her thigh.

“Or here,” she said, breathless. “Here’s good too.”

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a smug smile and Hawke swore that her body couldn’t have been hotter or wetter. His eyes raked over her from head to toe, drinking in her form, and she quickly found she had been wrong about that—she definitely _could_ be more aroused. He finished stripping his hands of their plating, then grabbed her by the waistband of her underwear. He tugged her away from the wall, pulled her flush against his body. One hand snaked around her waist, sliding back to its now-familiar spot on her bottom and squeezed. His other was busy running its fingertips over the swollen mound of her sex, making her dizzy and weak all at once.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t take you right here?” he whispered hoarsely against her ear, his breath hot and ticklish against her sensitive skin. She almost came from the feel of his breath alone. Every inch of her was on fire, reacting in waves and shivers to even the lightest touch.

“ _Nn_ ,” she managed to grunt, her hips tilting up, arms wrapping around him and trying to direct his waist to her own. Her fingers kneaded the small of his back, catlike, trying to drag him closer. He growled softly and bit the side of her neck, reprimanding the way she filled him with desire—and desperation. She could feel that desperation in him as surely as she felt it in herself. She gave him a small push, and he went willingly, backing into her room without further protest.

The moment the door closed, he was on her. His arms were everywhere—pulling at her clothes, her hair, running over her skin, tugging her towards the large bed in the center of the room; his mouth was covering her own, urging her lips open so his tongue could taste her again, restless and hungry. She had wanted to tease him first; she had wanted to tie him to her bed, take him into her mouth and suck him until he begged her for release. This all changed when she felt his hands on her breasts, through her clothes, squeezing and tugging, one knee between her legs and grinding against her crotch, stimulating her sex in the most incredible way.

They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs, having lost bits of clothing and armor along the way. The rest was pulled off in a flurry of movement, sped by desperation and desire. She needed to feel him inside her—it was too much. The desire was a sharp pain, needing his heavy erection to cure the sting. When they were finally fully naked, she barely had the presence of mind to notice that the lyrium tattoos covered every inch of him _except_ his groin, but then his mouth was pulling on her left nipple, and one of his hands was pinching the other and she lost the capacity to think. She gasped at the warm, wet feel, her spine arching without thought. Her arms wrapped around his head, holding him there captive, even as her legs tightened about his waist, trying to draw him closer. His teeth grazed the sensitive tip of her breast and Hawke cried out, no longer caring if anyone heard her pleasure.

“Kiss me,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl as he released her breast. She nodded, gripping his hair and dragging his face to her own. Their lips met, working against each other’s with a hunger and ferocity that shocked Hawke. She had never wanted someone so much. She had never been so aroused by such simple touching— _fuck,_ he hadn’t even played with her clit yet and she was on the verge of exploding.

Fenris collapsed against her with a growl when she ran her tongue across his lower lip, denying him access to inside her mouth just yet. The heat from his groin scorched the soft skin of her thigh, and she quickly found herself rocking her hips, trying to get him between her legs where he belonged. He had lost all of his patience as well. His hands gripped her thighs and he spread them far apart, holding her legs down and exposing the pink folds between her labia. He broke their desperate kissing to look down at her body, open and ready and _dripping_ for him. He cursed in a language she did not know and suddenly the tip of him, surprisingly large for his relatively slender build, was sliding against her wet, hot labia. He nearly ripped a pillow in half in frustration when he could not find her entrance. He was too hot, too enraged by his lust to focus.

Her fingers, gentle but firm, guided him inside of her. They gasped simultaneously at the feel. She was open, ready, but it had been several years since she had been able to indulge in this particular past time. Once she had met Fenris, well, that had been that. She had waited for him—for this moment for years. So he had to work his way inside her, inch by delicious inch, stretching her _so much; Maker he was so_ **big**! He supported himself with one arm, but the other was busy holding her leg down flat against the bed, giving him deeper access to her wet sex. Their hips finally met, and he was buried completely inside of her, his face pressed against the side of her neck. He bit her skin, holding her in place as he went from pinning her leg down to pulling her hips up, angling her closer so he could slide more easily in and out of her. And he began to. He started a slow pace, pulling out almost to the tip, before plunging in once more. Unable to stop herself, she clenched around him, feeling his frenulum against the entrance of her vagina.

He roared, shoving her down into the bed with the force of his thrusts, his hips pushing hers deep into the soft mattress. So much for a slow pace. He was thrusting into her wildly now, unable to pick up a steady rhythm. It didn’t matter. Their bodies were pressed so close, their skin sliding, slick with sweat, her arms holding him close, his weight heavy against her ample chest. His arms slid beneath her, gripping her waist, grabbing her ass hard as he ploughed into her with a fervor Hawke matched, her hips squirming up against his own, her mouth sliding over the salty sweat of his shoulder, biting down and making the lyrium in his skin flare.

Every thrust rubbed his groin against her clit, the roughness of his pubic hair extra texture and stimulation. His weight on her was heavy, but she managed to breathe and move against him all the same. Thrust-thrust-thrust, push, rub, grip and squeeze, groan, thrust-thrust…Fenris’ fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom, pulled her closer even as his hips rocked against her own, her legs tight around his waist, not giving him much room to pull back. It was enough, the friction building her up to impossible heights. She had never felt so full, so stretched to capacity. His mouth found hers, his tongue diving inside past her lips, mirroring what his hips were doing against her own. Maker, his penis was so thick, so _hot_! His skin was rubbing against her clit, the blood rushing to it and making it swollen and engorged with desire. Every thrust rubbed and teased her. The sounds of their slick sexes coming together seemed to echo in the room, mixing with their groans and grunts.

“Fuck,” Hawke said with feeling, breaking the kiss as her orgasm finally hit her. It felt like she was falling off a cliff—her body tensed, every muscle straining, fighting against the pleasure that rocked her to her core. It was too much, the feeling was too great—her clit was too sensitive, and her vagina was _too_ full of him—Maker, he was filling her completely! She screamed, a second orgasm pushing through her, not as intense as the first, but strong enough to make her spine arch and her hips buck.

“Hawke!” Fenris half-growled, half-cried as he gave a few last thrusts, unable to control himself any longer. He pushed himself as deep inside of her as he could and spilled his seed, his erection jerking against the walls of her sex as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. He ground his hips against hers, his body glowing bright with blue light as every muscle, every tendon and cord of flesh stood out, tensed and protruding. After what seemed an impossible length of time, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing heavy and strained. She didn’t relax her legs from his waist, but held him inside of her still, her arms going around his neck as she guided his face to hers to kiss tenderly. Her mouth moved against his sweetly, no longer an urgent demand, but now a soft question. It took a moment, but then he responded in kind, his lips gentle against hers, a light nibble here, a tender bite there. And by Andraste, he was still hard inside of her, even after all that.

Hawke broke the kiss with a soft, weak chuckle. “Oh, Fenris. How can you still…?”

The elf buried his face into the crook of her neck, drinking in her scent. “I will always want you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, probably hurt from screaming and groaning. Hawke ran her fingertips up and down the slick skin of his back, admiring the musculature of his form. She half-smiled, looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hmm…I think I have some ideas to test that theory. Mostly involving my mouth and maybe a silk scarf or two.”

Fenris groaned as he rolled off of her, but kept her close, pulling her onto his chest. His erection popped out of her, lying heavy and wet and still so hot, against the inside of her thigh. Oh, Maker, that…did things to her.

“Forget the scarves,” he whispered, trailing kisses up the side of her neck. “But if you would like to use that troublesome mouth of yours, I would be willing to return the favor.”

Hawke grinned, a sparkle in her eye as she suddenly rolled him completely onto his back, her thighs pinning his hips down against the bed.

“I’ll take you up on that, Fenris,” she said huskily, leaning down to kiss the side of his throat, her fingers already making their way down his tight abdominals, towards the throbbing, aching heat between her lover’s legs that she found to be so very, very interesting.

She had a long night ahead of her. She couldn’t wait to get started.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if anyone else felt a little...unsatisfied with Fenris' love scenes? My sister and I were, so I wrote this for her, and I thought I would share it with all of you. Let me know if you would like another installment--perhaps of their reunion? Post DA:I?


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